Secretly
by Cyndy
Summary: What if Erik sold his soul for another chance? What if Christine and Raul's daughter was a bright young ingenue? What if he could live forever?


Title: Secretly

Pairing: Phantom/Christine's daughter

Description:  Erik makes a deal with the devil and receives the opportunity to try to win the love of Christine's daughter.

Paris, 1900

Eric

                        All of my delusions have been shattered.  I had once fancied myself the shadowy king of an elaborately hidden kingdom. The architectural genius who built my own domain. I was a god who played with the lives of others – pretty marionettes who unwittingly danced to my tune.  And for her, for _her_…I was an Angel.  And that was the most intricate delusion of all. I had no desire to just be her angel, her muse. I wanted to be so much more to her.

            The remains of my life were an overly affectionate cat, a pale silk mask and the scattered bits of my opera, Don Juan Triumphant.  I had shredded my life's work in a fit of anger.   I didn't have any more toys to play with either. The entire theatre troupe had packed up and fled from this place saying it was "cursed." And, of course, they were right.  This place is as cursed as I am.

            Nothing is right without_ her_ here. I hadn't meant to become so attached.  It was only supposed to be a passing fancy, an experiment if you will.  I wanted to play with the idea of love, the essence of it. I had no desire to become its prey. But I had unwittingly allowed myself to become attached. What right did I have, aging monster that I am, to burden such an innocent?  I'm convinced that I've harmed her irreparably.   Who knew I had a conscience?  I'd thought that'd had been lost long ago.

            So here I sit at my beautifully carved desk with a pistol in my hand.  Firearms have never been my style.  Too impersonal.  The Punjab Lasso requires such effort, such expertise.  Any fool can point and fire a weapon. Yet, I think that a pistol suits this particular occasion.   I have never used it before; I'd purchased it on a whim.  Little did I know that I'd be using it to end my miserable existence. Perhaps I should have done this long ago.  I could have saved her so much pain. 

            Now, I only torture myself – with my memories. Twenty years have passed and yet they are still as sharp and bright as ever.  I cannot turn her out of my mind or my heart, it seems.  None of it matters now anyway.  She has left this world.  Passed on without me and I long to join her although I know that we have very different eternal rests in store.  I may have played her Angel but she is one.  I can only imagine what horrors await me.

            I discovered her death quite by accident this evening. I don't even know what propelled me to leave my lair. I rarely go above ground these days. I happened to glance down at a bit of newspaper that had blown against my leg.  There was story about a carriage accident that caught my attention.  Usually the fortunate or misfortunes of others bore me but for some reason I glanced at the article only to see her name jump out at me.  Gone.  It barely mentioned her husband.  That stupid boy wasn't with her when she died. She perished in the arms of hired servant.  I ran inside then, like a spider seeking the sanctity of its web.  I nearly crawled inside my entrance on the Rue de Scribe.

 Even my beloved cat, Ayeesha, can provide no comfort for me.  I feel numb as I methodically stroked her fur. With an affectionate pat, I set her down on the floor and she scampered off in search of a comfortable napping spot, no doubt. My solicitor has a standing appointment with me on Mondays. She has enough food to sustain her two more days. I left instructions for him to take her in if anything ever happened to me. 

            I calmly stand up and walk to the fire.   The flames are glowing unusually bright, it appears.  They are almost gleaming, striking near my feet – threatening to overwhelm the confined space of the fireplace. Or maybe my perceptions aren't quite accurate tonight.  The metal is cold against my forehead.  I shut my eyes and I wait for the shotgun blast that will bring the oblivion I've been searching for.  . .

            . . .but instead of oblivion, I received something far more precious.  Something infinitely more interesting.  Immortality.  Power.   A second chance.  And all for the price of a soul. 

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End file.
